Runs in the Family
by Luna Darkside
Summary: Assistant police inspector Kudou Shinichi happens to save the life of yakuza boss Kuroba Kaito. Things get... complicated. /policeofficer!Shinichi x yakuzaboss!Kaito - ADOPTED BY ANGELSBEAST/
1. Chapter 1

_So I originally started out wanting to write a short, fun little policeofficer!Shinichi x yakuzaboss!Kaito fic, something cute and fun like Honto Yajuu, but then plot started to happen and things went downhill. I've currently got 4k words written, but it's still not complete, so I'm going to do what I usually try to avoid doing and post chapters of it while it's still incomplete. Ugh._

_Warnings include a bit of violence, shounen-ai, grammar mistakes / errors, blatant handwaving regarding how the yakuza and arm injuries work because otherwise this plot makes no sense, etc., etc._

_Well, uh, hope you enjoy this first chapter! - Luna_

**Runs in the Family **| _Chapter One_

Kuroba Kaito, the twenty-eighth head of the Kuroba yakuza family stationed in Ekoda and the first to fully legitimize the family's not inconsiderable quasi-legal entertainment companies, was shot on a Tuesday in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Granted, it wasn't the first time he was shot – far from it, of course; the Kuroba group wasn't exactly a favorite amongst the other clans – but it _was _the first time a pretty, azure-eyed stranger with an adorable scowl pushed Kaito out of the way just in time for the bullet to clip Kaito's bicep rather than lodge in his chest.

It took Kaito a few seconds to realize what was happening (_he had been walking down the sidewalk, flanked by Hattori, an ill-mannered kid from Osaka whom Kaito's father had inducted into the family on a whim, and Hakuba, Kaito's second-in-command who was probably planning to slit Kaito's throat someday, when all of a sudden there had been a gunshot and mayhem and someone shouting at him to move_), but the burst of pain in his arm was enough to make him go wide-eyed and jumpstart the flow of adrenaline through his veins. He ducked behind a parked car, taking Hattori and Hakuba with him, as his savior swore loudly and leveled a painfully small handgun – _handgun? Why did he have a firearm? _– at a building opposite the street.

Kaito stared at the man for a moment, utterly transfixed as he ignored Hakuba's shouting in his ear and Hattori's very colorful threats and the blood dripping down his arm. The man was gorgeous; even from only his profile, Kaito could see the sharpness of his eyebrows and the jump of a muscle in his cheek, could detect determination and will and a goldmine of characteristics that Kaito admired all in the clench of his jaw.

It really wasn't the time, not when civilians were frantically running and screaming with gunfire and swearing as background music, but Kaito took a few seconds to mentally swoon anyway.

He was forcefully jarred from his swooning when Hakuba wrenched his wounded arm, eliciting a, "God_damn _it, Hakuba, I am going to _bisect you_," and began to drag him down the street.

"We need to get out of here," Hakuba hissed at him through gritted teeth as Hattori flailed around in their wake, possibly in an attempt at distraction, and Kaito was about to snap an irritated response at him when he heard a gunshot and a matching gasp of pain from behind them.

Instinctively turning to look, Kaito caught sight of the man who'd saved him grabbing at his right arm, blood spilling between his fingers. He was instantly struck with a wave of horror and indignation and strangely personal terror, and he almost broke out of Hakuba's grip, but the blond growled warningly and shoved him unceremoniously into the back of a black sedan. Hattori clambered into the driver's seat.

"We're getting out of here," Hakuba informed Kaito, no room for argument in his tone, and Kaito opened his mouth to protest, but they were already pulling away from the curb, leaving Kaito's wounded savior sagging against a streetlamp and Kaito's heart in his throat.

* * *

The next day, after his entirely not-life-threatening arm wound was fully bandaged up and he was no longer being subjected to the family doctor's overenthusiastic ministrations, Kaito called Aoko into his room.

Though she was a mix of mother and best friend to Kaito, Nakamori Aoko didn't have a technical position in the Kuroba clan. Her job was mostly secretarial – though Kaito flinched to imagine what sort of cruel and unusual punishment she would inflict upon him if he dared to refer to her as his secretary – and while she was far from being the type of mindless, groveling underling most yakuza bosses preferred, Kaito loved her all the same.

He was taking tentative sips of the green tea someone had brought when Aoko stormed in, brandishing her terrifyingly overstocked binder (full of trade secrets and blackmail material, no doubt, but Kaito hadn't ever dared to look in it) and looking about as pleasant as a hurricane.

"So you got shot by some sniper from the Nakagawa clan?" she remarked, sitting down across from him with a disapproving huff.

"I think so – it was because they were still sore over us taking control of their stocks. That's what Hakuba said, right?" At Aoko's nod, Kaito relaxed in his chair. "Well, I'm sure Hakuba's taking countermeasures as we speak." He rubbed absently at his arm.

Eyes flitting to the motion, Aoko shook her head with feeling. "I don't understand why you can't go out _for one day _and not get shot," she chastised.

"Maybe it's because I'm the leader of a yakuza group," Kaito suggested hesitantly.

"Whatever, like that's _any _excuse." Aoko rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. She tucked her binder under one arm before leaning forward expectantly. "So. What did you want? I hope you know I'm busy negotiating about the Teimuzu River location, and I don't have time for anything unimportant –"

"There was a man on the street," Kaito cut in, watching Aoko's face carefully. His eyebrows went skyward as she blanched.

"No such man," she insisted immediately, and Kaito narrowed his eyes.

"May I remind you that I was there, Aoko? I know what happened."

"It would be best if you –" Aoko paused, choosing her words carefully. "You really rather shouldn't try to pursue this –"

"I'm not accepting that as an answer," Kaito told her firmly, with all the assertiveness he could muster, and Aoko fell silent.

Straightening, Kaito continued, "There was a man on the street. He pushed me out of the way of the bullet so I only got hit in the arm, but I think he was shot while we were escaping. And I _know _you've researched who he is, even if you don't want to tell me," he scowled at her; her mouth had been opening, and from her guilty expression, she _had _been about to try to feign ignorance, "so tell me what you found out."

Fidgeting a little, Aoko bit her bottom lip. "Look, Kaito, it's really kind of…" she began, clearly hesitant, but Kaito headed her off with a shake of his head.

"This is important, Aoko," he said quietly, studying her face as she frowned uneasily at him. "He saved my life. I don't think this clan would have a leader anymore if it weren't for him."

Frowning contemplatively, Aoko made a small sound in the back of her throat before she sighed and opened her binder. The troubled expression on her face didn't fade as she carefully thumbed through a few pages and extracted a thin stack of papers. "Here."

"Thank you." Kaito took the papers from her. The first one was a general biography, complete with a grainy, unofficial shot of the same pretty stranger from the street. According to Aoko's file, _Kudou Shinichi_ was the man's name, his birthday was May 4, his blood type was A, his hometown was Beika, his parents were bestselling author Kudou Yuusaku and former actress Fujimine Yukiko…

Blinking, Kaito arched an eyebrow up at Aoko. "I don't see what's wrong with any of this. He seems fairly ordinary."

In response, Aoko leaned over and pointed at the line labeled _PROFESSION_.

"Oh," Kaito said, blankly.

"Yes," Aoko agreed, emphatically, "_oh_."

* * *

Shinichi was in the middle of a mildly gory dream involving a velociraptor gnawing on his right arm when the murmuring of voices – "_Uh – well – sir – ah, he's stable, quite drugged, but still, um, try not to – to excite him, sir, thank you, please, er…" "I understand. Thank you." _– reached him. One of the voices belonged to a nurse, but the other was unfamiliar.

_?, _he thought, and opened his eyes.

He would never stop being surprised by how blank and clean hospital rooms were, Shinichi thought absently. How blank and clean and mind-numbingly _boring _they were, all sanitized and spotless and silent, save for the rhythmic beeping of machines and the occasional sound of a wheeled bed rolling down the hallway.

It took Shinichi a few moments to notice the one not-blank, not-clean, and not-boring person sitting in the visitor's chair.

The person – a man – was dressed in a crisp black suit that was far too formal for the creaky wooden seat he was occupying, the lapel framing a starched silver silk shirt. He was holding a pair of dark sunglasses in one hand, the nearly-black plastic contrasting sharply with the mix of silver and gold bracelets and rings he wore, and his head was angled to one side, allowing a sliver of bright, colorful tattoos to show along the top of his collar. He was clearly yakuza, which was worrying enough. Shinichi should have probably been concerned that the man was even at his bedside.

But most importantly, he was probably the most attractive person Shinichi had ever seen, and apparently Shinichi had a thing for bad boys?

Shoving the thought aside, Shinichi struggled into a sitting position as gracefully as he could manage. "Hello," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "Uh – do I know you?"

The man gave him an appraising look. "I suppose that technically, we've never been formally introduced."

God, his _voice_. His voice alone could put the red light district out of business. Shinichi coughed, pushing the thought into the furthest part of his fogged brain. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the man said, leaning forward to brace himself against the edge of the bed as he met Shinichi's eyes, "that you saved my life. I'm here to thank you."

For a long while, Shinichi stared, trying to comprehend before he choked out, "What?"

The hint of a smile played over the man's frankly sinful lips. "I don't suppose you remember getting shot while pushing someone out of the way of a bullet? You know, what happened yesterday?"

"_Oh_. That." Feeling rather like a deer in the headlights, Shinichi swallowed. He certainly remembered spotting a sniper rifle, gleaming in the midday sun, aimed at someone in the street, and he'd acted entirely on instinct, shoving the targeted person aside and returning fire and, well, eventually getting hit rather devastatingly in the arm, but he hadn't exactly considered that he had saved the life of a _yakuza member_. The identity of the person he'd rescued hadn't even crossed his mind. "I – yes, I do remember." The dull sparks of pain that continued to eat at his arm were enough of a reminder, at least.

"Good." The man nodded slowly. "I…" He stopped for a second, gathering himself, and Shinichi raised his eyebrows internally. The man certainly didn't _seem_ the hesitant type. "I hear you're part of the police force?"

Something stuck at the back of Shinichi's throat, but he nodded all the same. "Assistant inspector of division one. I work –" he refused to change the tense, _it wasn't a sure thing yet, there was still a (slim, ridiculous, incredibly improbable) chance_, "_– _homicide."

"I see." The man nodded slowly before rising. "Well – since you're a police officer, I suppose I should cut this short. We wouldn't want it to get around that an assistant inspector is hanging around a yakuza boss. Thank you for your help yesterday – I'll be rewarding you as soon as possible."

Shinichi barely heard the last sentence. "You're a yakuza _boss_? _How_?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. Wasn't the man only twenty-six? Twenty-seven?

Interpreting his surprise correctly, the man smiled faintly. "And you're an assistant inspector. Both of us are rather impressive, aren't we?"

The words hurt like a kick to the ribs. Shinichi felt an urge to sink down into the bed and never show his face again. "I _was _rather impressive, wasn't I?" he murmured, and the yakuza boss, at the doorway, glanced back at him quizzically.

"What do you mean, _was_?"

"Well," and here, Shinichi had to stop and force a smile, "I can't exactly be a police officer like this, can I?" He lifted his bandaged arm weakly, cringing.

The man was turned completely away from the door at this point, eyes intense on Shinichi. "What do you mean?" he demanded, and Shinichi tried not to hear the horror in his voice. It wouldn't do to project his emotions onto the man, after all.

"According to the doctors, the bullet damaged some nerves in my arm, impairing my motor control," Shinichi began, laughing a little as he did. It hurt, both the laughing and the talking. "There's a – there's a ninety-eight percent chance that I'll never regain full use of my arm. I'll always," he had to swallow and look away, "I'll always have tremors in this arm."

"I… don't quite know what you mean." The yakuza boss just stood beside Shinichi's bed, confused. "Why does that matter?"

Shinichi choked back a wince. Turning to smile as normally as possible at the man, he answered, "Have you ever heard of a police officer who couldn't hold a gun steady?"

The abject dismay that was immediately evident on the man's face was almost enough to make Shinichi laugh. Ironic, wasn't it, that a yakuza boss, someone who crushed the fingers of traitorous underlings and organized hits over morning coffee and generally hid from the law, actually seemed to _care _that Shinichi had lost his dream?

"Don't worry," he told the man, allowing himself to fall back into a horizontal position, "I feel the same."


	2. Chapter 2

_Yeah... so this is all I have written so far. I have a feeling that this fic is probably going to die, but, um... enjoy it while it lasts? - Luna_

**Runs in the Family** | _Chapter Two_

Shinichi was in the middle of rereading _A Scandal in Bohemia _for the fifty-eighth time when the doorbell rang, echoing loudly throughout the empty house.

Scowling, he looked up from his book. Ever since he'd quietly resigned a week ago, to Inspector Megure's despair and a small, private party thrown by Satou and Takagi, he hadn't had any visitors, other than his parents and Ran, and none of them used the doorbell.

Rising from his spot on the sofa, Shinichi methodically placed a bookmark in his book and walked to the door. He tried to ignore the way his hand shook uncontrollably as he reached for the doorknob.

He opened the door, polite _what can I do for you_ frown stuck firmly in place, but ended up blinking in astonishment at the well-dressed, sunglasses-wearing man standing on his doormat.

Somewhere in the hazy part of his memory that encompassed the first few days after he'd been operated on in the hospital, Shinichi recognized the man. He was the one Shinichi had evidently saved, right? The – the yakuza boss, if memory served. Why was he here, Shinichi wondered? He hadn't bothered trying to turn the man in, seeing no real reason to, and he didn't _think _he'd offended the man particularly the last time they'd met.

Swallowing quickly – and not missing the way the man's gaze flickered down to his throat – Shinichi leaned against the doorframe. "What can I do for you?"

The man smirked, removing his sunglasses one-handed. He had startlingly bright eyes, Shinichi noted absently, eyes like – like a pair of sapphires or lakes or something equally poetic. "For fear of sounding cliché, I'll refrain from saying, 'It's more about what _I _can do for _you_,' and just ask if I can come in."

Shinichi briefly weighed the consequences of allowing a yakuza boss into his house versus those of _not _allowing a yakuza boss into his house and promptly decided on the former. He pushed the door open wider in silent invitation.

Smile growing, the man nodded and stepped a little closer. "Thank you, Kudou."

Trying hard not to react to the use of his name – so the man had done his research, had he? – Shinichi smiled back as steadily as he could manage. "No trouble at all."

He felt, strangely enough, as if he had made a terrible decision when the man beamed, looking several kinds of gorgeous, and brushed past Shinichi into the house.

* * *

"I imagine you're wondering why I'm here," Kaito began, settling into the worn leather armchair he was occupying as he glanced around the old, well-furnished library Shinichi had led him into. He felt an odd, unexpected warmth kindle in his chest at the sight of the rows upon rows of carefully preserved books, encyclopedias and novels alike wedged into the curved shelves. Something about this room felt personal, almost intimate in its own way, and the thought that he was being allowed a glimpse at something private was strangely satisfying, even though technically Shinichi was almost a perfect stranger.

From where he was setting down a cup of tea at Kaito's elbow, Shinichi nodded, right eyebrow quirked. "You're not wrong." The look on his face suggested he had more to say, but he apparently didn't think it wise to mouth off in front of a yakuza boss.

Kaito couldn't hide his incredulous grin. "You've saved my life. There's no need to act as if I'm about to call my men in and kill you if you say the wrong thing, Kudou. I didn't even bring any men with me." Aoko had been furious when he'd announced he was going to a mystery location without bringing any bodyguards, and she would be even more furious to learn who he was visiting. He tried not to think about it.

"Oh, how absolutely _noble_ of you," Shinichi muttered, rolling his eyes sardonically as he stalked over to another armchair, and God, he was _exquisite_. How was he even real? It was like someone had poured every one of Kaito's types – dark-haired, intelligent, sarcastic, able to handle a gun – into a cake pan and baked them into Kudou Shinichi.

"Anyway." Kaito cleared his throat, cataloguing the thought for later perusal. He took a sip of the tea – it was brewed strong enough to leave a lingering taste but not enough to be bitter. Quite like Shinichi himself, actually. "I don't know if you've done any research on me, but if you haven't, I'm Kuroba Kaito from the Kuroba family stationed in Ekoda."

"Oh." Shinichi's eyebrows rose. "I think – are you the family head who legitimized all the businesses? The radio station and the movie theaters and the record companies, I mean?"

"So you've heard of me." Kaito took a moment to preen.

"I'm not surprised people were trying to kill you," snorted Shinichi. "I doubt all the other clans are pleased that you've gone clean. Especially since the Kuroba group controls Haidou, Beika, _and _Ekoda."

"How astute of you," Kaito beamed at him, and Shinichi sighed.

"I was an assistant inspector before all of this, if you recall."

His words hit Kaito like an I-beam. Kaito sank back in his chair, setting his cup back down as he met Shinichi's gaze. "Kudou –"

Unexpectedly, Shinichi's expression turned stormy. He held up a hand to cut Kaito off. "I don't need your pity," he said sternly, scowling darkly, and Kaito hurried to shake his head.

"That isn't it, really. I just…" He had to pause. "I just feel responsible for what happened. You were injured and had to give up my dream because of – because of me, after all. So if there's any way I could possible begin to repay –"

"First of all, there's no _tried _about it," Shinichi interjected. "I didn't _try _to save you; I _did _save you. And second, what happened to me is nobody's fault but the shooter's. Who _you _are is insignificant – I didn't save you because I expected to be rewarded for it." He ran a hand through his hair irritably. "I mean, is a reason necessary? I don't know why you would kill someone, but as for saving someone, a logical mind isn't needed, right? So, Kuroba," he jabbed at finger in Kaito's direction, "I don't want your repayment."

For a second, the only thing Kaito fully registered was _wow_, Shinichi looked _magnificent _panting a little and wearing an angry flush, and then Shinichi's words actually set in and he blinked.

"You don't…?"

"No, I don't want any of your barely-clean money," Shinichi finished, expression rather spectacularly flat. "Even if you've _technically _gone legal, you're still considered yakuza, after all. It's generous of you to offer, of course, but I really don't want compensation." He smiled faintly, glancing down at his visibly shaking hand. "All I really want is my arm back, but if it was the price I have to pay for your life, I'd gladly give my other arm."

Kaito stared at him for a long, long minute, and then, before he could consider the implications of what he was saying, he blurted out, "Come work for me."

Shinichi's eyebrows leaped up his forehead. "What?"

"Come to the Ekoda headquarters," Kaito heard himself offering. "You can join the family."

Scandalized, Shinichi stammered, "I'm _not _going to join a yakuza clan, are you _insane _–"

"We have some of the best doctors in Japan. Muscle specialists and neurologists." They didn't, but they'd get them. Kaito would hire them himself. "We can try to help you regain control of your arm."

Positively spluttering, pretty face creased into something akin to bewilderment, Shinichi reminded him, "Kuroba, there's a ninety-eight percent chance that –"

"What I'm hearing is that there's a two percent chance that we'll succeed. And that's good enough for me." Taking a last sip of his tea, Kaito rose to his feet. "Please. At least drop by the headquarters." Digging through his suit pocket, he extracted an ostentatious gold-plated pen Hattori had given him as a joke (though he had somehow ended up using it anyway). Before Shinichi could protest, Kaito picked up his right hand, ignoring the tremors that wracked the fingertips and shook the delicate wrist, and gently wrote the family's address on his palm. The dark ink contrasted alluringly with Shinichi's pale, pale skin, and Kaito reveled in the warmth that Shinichi gave off for perhaps a moment too long.

"Consider it," he told Shinichi as their eyes met, Kaito's gaze hopeful and Shinichi's dubious, and he couldn't help himself as he lifted Shinichi's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles. Shinichi's eyes widened, luminous, and Kaito let himself believe the illusion that his hand stopped quivering for just a second.

"I will," Shinichi murmured, never breaking eye contact, and Kaito let go of his hand to smile down at him before he walked himself out. He could only hope Shinichi would actually come to the headquarters, hope as desperately as he dared.

* * *

Four days later, Shinichi showed up in front of the sprawling traditional Japanese home that the Kuroba family used as headquarters, uncomfortable and self-conscious as he rang the doorbell on the gate.

Shinichi had agonized over his decision for as long as he could. On one hand, he really didn't want to get involved in anything that had yakuza ties, but on the other, he still – well, he still wanted to regain full use of his arm, and this was possibly his best option.

(Also, you know, Kaito was extremely good-looking, but _obviously _that hadn't factored into his decision at all. At _all_.)

A few seconds after he rang the doorbell, Shinichi was greeted by several antagonistic men in suits and a shrieking, binder-waving girl who was somehow more terrifying than the men in suits, especially when she yelled, "_Oh my God, Kaito, you actually invited the goddamn police inspector to our place how stupid could you get I told you going to see him was a bad idea_."

"Actually, I was an assistant inspector, and now I'm retired," Shinichi informed her when she paused for breath and stopped whacking him on the head with her binder. "I don't suppose it makes any difference?"

The girl – who was actually quite pretty when she wasn't attacking poor unsuspecting ex-detectives with binders – blinked at him, mouth falling open as she appeared to realize something. The tension bled from her shoulders, leaving her sagging against the gate.

"_Shit_," she murmured in a way that made Shinichi think he wasn't supposed to be hearing what she was saying. "Kaito always likes the - the irritating, sarcastic ones."

"Excuse me?" Shinichi blinked, angling his head at her when she glanced back at him.

She shook her head at him. Maybe it was just Shinichi, but she seemed to be doing it with a strange sort of pity. "I'm so sorry, you poor boy. You're exactly his type," she sighed, patting him on the shoulder, and Shinichi stared in complete bewilderment.

But just as he was about to ask what she was talking about, there was a commotion at the front door. Kaito, looking strangely adorable and unlike himself in a pair of loose flannel pants and a t-shirt, shoved his way through the group of suit-clad men huddled around the entrance (or rather, he tried to shove, likely for theatricality, but the men had respectfully parted upon seeing him, so the effect was mainly lost). "What the hell's going on, you –"

The words died on his tongue as he caught sight of Shinichi.

There was an awkward silence. Shinichi waved, tentatively.

A smile broke out across Kaito's face. "Kudou, you actually came?" He hurried to the gate, still beaming, but the grin fell off his face when the girl smacked him solidly in the face with her binder.

"Aoko! _Ow_!" Kaito gasped, and Aoko scowled.

"You actually invited him to our place? A civilian?" she growled, and Kaito cleared his throat, raking a handful of his hair away from his face. It looked soft and unstyled, Shinichi thought. Just the right texture to run his fingers through.

…Okay, so maybe Shinichi shouldn't have been thinking about that right now. He willed himself to stop.

Meanwhile, Kaito – big bad yakuza boss Kaito – was cowering a bit under Aoko's glare (which was admittedly rather frightening, so Shinichi couldn't blame him). "I… possibly," he answered.

"He did," Shinichi confirmed.

Aoko hit Kaito again (Kaito made an undignified sound) before huffing and throwing her hands up in the air. It was rather impressive, considering she was still holding her overstuffed binder. "Ugh, _fine_. At least now we know why you were sulking while trying to convince all of us that you weren't not."

Affronted, Kaito began, "I was _not _–"

"You know what canceling your _very important _meeting with Oikawa from the Toyama group is? Sulking. You know what claiming that you're 'not hungry' at every meal is? Sulking. You know what hiding in your room and not leaving the house is? _Sulking_." Aoko jabbed him in the chest at the end of each sentence before shaking her head. "You're _incorrigible _when you're smitten."

With that, she stormed past the two of them, yelling, "Nothing to see here, Kaito's just being a lovesick preteen girl," at the other yakuza. They all exchanged questioning glances before cautiously going back into the house.

Once the last man had gone back in, Shinichi turned to lift his eyebrows at Kaito. "Sulking?" He didn't dare ask about the "you're his type" or the "smitten" or the "lovesick preteen girl." He didn't know what kind of response he would get, and he didn't quite want to witness Kaito laughing it off. Then he'd have to admit that the strange attraction he felt towards the man was entirely one-sided, and despite generally being realistic almost to the point of pessimism, Shinichi wanted to let himself hold onto hope.

Shuffling his feet, Kaito actually looked abashed. There were the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks. "Yes, well. Maybe by some definitions I was sulking, but. I mean."

They stood in a strangely companionable silence for a few more seconds before Shinichi gestured at the house. "Where are your manners, Kuroba?" he berated, as Kaito started in surprise. "Aren't you going to show me around?" He lifted his eyebrows at the frankly gigantic house. "I mean, it's a pretty tiny place, but all the same."

Kaito blinked at him for a moment before he smirked. "Of course, darling," he almost purred, and Shinichi found himself flushing as Kaito sashayed back through the gate, looking for the world like a ridiculous, pajama-wearing twenty-six year old and nothing like a jaded yakuza boss.

Smiling a little to himself, Shinichi decided he preferred that ridiculous twenty-six year old much more.


End file.
